


My Home is with You

by pallysuune



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 21:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5514509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallysuune/pseuds/pallysuune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night their parents died, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff might as well have died too. They were saved from the wreckage of their home, but the innocent children they had been were dead too. Their entire world changed over night. And all they have left is each other as they grow up and learn who they are and who they want to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Home is with You

It sounded like thunder.

All Wanda could do was stare, her eyes wide, her heart pounding so fast it was like it was trying to beat right out of her chest. Pietro was faster to recover from the shock. As the yawning hole that had swallowed their parents spread wider, he grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her into the other room and pushing her under their bed. He follow close after her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She held him tight and buried her face against his shoulder, praying for it to stop.

It felt like it went on forever, the apartment building slow to settle after the explosion only a few floors below. It was a miracle there was anything left. The wall that separated their room from the main part of the apartment was gone, fallen into the pit that had once been their home. The whole ventured dangerously close to where they hid, stopping only a little short. If he tried, Pietro could likely have lifted his head and looked down into it, but he didn't, kept his face tucked into the crook of his sister's neck. A large portion of their room remained at least, and the floor there was sound enough to support their slight weight as they hid, though the wall beside their bed had been ripped open just a few inches off the floor, exposing them to the cold night air.

“It will be alright,” Pietro whispered into Wanda's hair, though his voice was soft, weak.

“Mama and Papa...”

He shushed her again, holding her tightly.

Pietro and Wanda huddled together tightly, looking out from the safety of their hiding place. There was a second of near-peace, the sound of combat still far below them, and then there was a rumble they felt through the floor, jolting their bones. A shell landed on the remains of the floor just beyond their bed. The twins clung to each other, expecting death at any second. Pietro only wished it would go fast. He didn't want Wanda to hurt. It was so close it would surely take them both and, maybe it was selfish, but he was glad for that. He didn't want her to have to live without him, and he didn't want to face whatever came next without her. They had been born together, it was only right they died together, too. He just wished it had been much, much later.

But the shell didn't go off.

Heart practically beating in his throat, he peeked at the shell, eyeing it fearfully. It was barely three feet from them, stuck in a break in the floor made by its impact. Wanda raised her head slightly to look at it too, both of them staring at the words printed on the side.

STARK INDUSTRIES.

Wanda whimpered softly and buried her face in Pietro's shoulder. Carefully, so very carefully, he shifted them a little, putting himself between her and the very thing that would likely kill them, protecting her from it as best he could.

The night wore on, the sounds of fighting fading. Fear and adrenaline wore off slowly, leaving the twins exhausted, clinging to each other but too afraid to do anything, to try and free themselves with the threat of the shell so close to them. All they could do was wait and pray. Occasionally, something would shift in the rubble below and they would both tense, waiting for the rush of fire and sound of the shell going off. But time and again, it didn't. Occasionally, one of the other dozed but not well. Wanda's few dreams were plagued with the sound of thunder and the floor giving way under her. In Pietro's, he saw their parents fall again and again, but always one thing was different: Wanda was falling with them, leaving him alone and frozen in horror. He jerked awake, only to have Wanda try to calm him down, her eyes darting to the explosive over his shoulder.

Time lost meaning after a while. It felt like they were there forever, each second an eternity. Pietro thought he heard things, imagined things and couldn't help but think about the bodies in the rubble below them. Their parents and so many others, broken and battered and decaying. He held tightly to his sister, trying not to think about it, but unable to get the thought out of his head.

They had no food or water, no way of getting either, and no where to relieve themselves. Exhausted, half delirious with thirst, cold, and filthy, they clung to each other, but both of them were losing hope that they would somehow miraculously make it out of there. Ten years old and they had already resigned themselves to death; the cruelty of that wasn't lost on Wanda.

Wanda was dozing off again when she thought she heard movement below, rousing her. At first, she thought it was her imagination, or the building settling again – she shot a quick look at the shell at that thought, anxious of it shifting. But there came the sound of voices. She tensed, her breath catching in her throat. The building shifted slightly with their movements, making her heart hammer against her ribs again. Pietro finally hard them,lifting his head, his pale eyes wide.

“Oh no,” she whispered. They had to be stopped before their actions set off the explosive beside the twins. She had no idea if they were rescuers or looters, but if they didn't leave, all of them were going to die. Her throat was tight with fear, nearly stealing her breath away. Pietro's face reflected the same emotion. Below them, the sound of movement grew louder.

“Get out! Get out of here! There's a missile!” she screamed as loud as she could. Pietro's head snapped in the direction of the shell, barely daring to breathe, honestly fearing that his sister's voice would set the thing off. Below, the voices stopped for a moment, then continued, just barely low enough that he couldn't hear what was said. They began to pull away.

Pietro let out a slow breath. She very well may have saved them and doomed them at once. If that was a rescue party, they were their only hope of getting out. He gathered his sister close again, one hand in the tangles of her dirty hair to guide her head to his shoulder. She was sobbing and shaking, whispering apologies to him over and over. He tried to assure her that it was okay, but his heart sank, despair tugging at his heart.

How long they stayed there this time, neither of them new. Wanda was crying roughly, Pietro was crying too, but softer at least. It truly was over now. They were going to be joining their parents soon. But not soon enough. The thought of them starving there was becoming a real possibility and that scared Pietro more than anything else. Watching Wanda waste away and not being able to do anything to help her.

There was a sudden racket outside the hole that used to be their bedroom wall, a light raking over the dark of the room, a gust of wind. Pietro blinked, his eyes stinging from dust and dirt, and raised his head just enough to look out into the air outside their broken little apartment. His eyes widened sharply. A helicopter. The people had been rescuers and had returned for the surviving twins. He thought he heard someone yelling over the din of the rotors. A man in a harness attached to a winch on the helicopter's side appeared in the opening. Pietro couldn't see his eyes through his goggles, but he saw the way the man held a hand out him, clearly seeing the twins hiding, half-visible under the bed. He shook his head quickly and pushed on Wanda's shoulder. Her first. Always her first. She raised her head, heart racing and met his eyes, her own wide with fear. He could practically feel how terrified she was. This could set off the shell. They could all die. Or she could lose him too.

“Go. I'll be right behind. I won't leave you Wanda. Not ever,” he said, his voice lost to the sound of the machine nearby.

She just looked at him for a second, then pressed her dirty, tear-stained cheek to his and carefully began to wiggle toward the edge of the bed and the hole and safety beyond it. She carefully poked her head out, arms lifted, and the rescue looped an arm around her small frame, pulling her out. Pietro just watched them, his gut twisting in outright joy and fear. Wanda would be safe. But would he? Pale eyes darted back to the shell, always afraid.

Wanda clung to the rescuer, looking back at Pietro even as he looked away. She thought she heard the words “have to go” “come back” and “him” but she couldn't be certain. All she could do was hope. The helicopter pulled away from the apartment, dipping low to where rescue crews were waiting on the street, the winch lowering her and her rescue worker the rest of the way. She was handed to someone else waiting there, then taken to an ambulance and wrapped in a blanket. No one said anything about how filthy and dirty she was, or about what had happened. Wanda wouldn't have heard them if they had. Her wide eyes were focused on the helicopter lifted off again, up the ten stories to where her brother was still hidden away. Her heart slammed against her ribs, her breath shallow and fast, fast enough it made her light headed, but she was so afraid he wouldn't be coming down. That she would lose him too. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she watched, straining to see in the dark. She couldn't tell if her twin had crawled free or not, she just saw the helicopter pull away and begin to lower again. As it got closer, her throat tightened, her heart leaping at the sight of a small figure in the man's arms, complete with a mop of messy brown hair.

The second her brother's feet were on the ground, she threw off the blanket that had been wrapped around her shoulders and ran to him, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in the crook of his neck, sobbing against him again.

They were safe. They were actually safe.

And now they were orphans.

It hit them both at the same time and hit them hard. Wanda pulled her head back just enough to look up at her brother, her eyes wide. She saw the same look reflected back at her. Fear and heartbreak. They didn't have long before rescue workers were there again, wrapping them in blankets and ushering them toward a car. Pietro clung to his sister's hand, refusing to let go of her. No one seemed to mind. They were taken to the same car and helped into the backseat.

It was too late to go to the orphanage that night, it was several miles out of town and it was clear the twins needed attention before then. So the social worker took them to a homeless shelter run by a church a few blocks away. It was already packed, so many people were displaced by the fighting that it was impossible for it not to be, but it seemed nearly everyone was sleeping. A man who worked there took Pietro's shoulder and steered him one way, while a woman tried to pull Wanda in another. The twins refused to let go of each others' hands, yelling and fighting until the woman crouched down to Wanda's level and promised them that it was only for a little while, only until they got cleaned up. The kids exchanged a look and then very reluctantly let go of each other, allowing themselves to be steered to separate shower rooms.

Wanda had probably never showered so fast or so thoroughly in her life, her only thought on getting clean and getting back out to Pietro as fast as possible. The woman managed to find some clothes for her. They were a little worn and a little big but they were clean, and she was thankful for that. She rushed out and found her brother waiting for her in the hallway outside the shower rooms, also clean and with fresh clothes. Wanda grabbed his hand, squeezing herself tight to his side again. The workers said nothing about it and just ushered the two of them to an empty cafeteria. They refused to sit across from each other, sitting side by side instead, still holding each others' hands. The workers brought out two bowls of porridge and pieces of crusty bread for them. Pietro's stomach felt like it was gnawing holes in itself from hunger, but the second the bowl was set in front of him, he could only stare at it, his mind filled with the image of the last meal he had looked down at: _a bowl full of his mother's best stew, as they all sat down to dinner._

_Seconds later, the first shell hit._

Pietro shoved away from the table, his stomach heaving. He knelt on the floor, coughing and shaking.

Wanda was at his side in a second, a hand pressed to his back to soothe him. “Come on, Pietro, sit up,” she murmured when his coughing calmed and his stomach settled some. He swallowed a few times, turning tearful eyes to his sister and doing as she told him. “Close your eyes.” He just gave her a confused look, not understanding. Wanda sighed and put a hand over his eyes. When she felt the movement of lashes against her palm and knew he had closed his eyes, she pulled her hand away, reaching for the bread. She tore a piece off and held it up to his lips. “You need to eat at least a little, Pietro. Please.” He sighed through his nose and opened his mouth obediently.

In this way, Wanda managed to get him to eat most of the bread, and five or so spoonfuls of the porridge before he finally refused to eat any more, insisting that he wasn't hungry. He turned his back to the table to keep from looking at the bowls again, but remained sitting beside Wanda as she ate a little bit too. Not much, either. But more than she'd had in two days.

When they were finished, the workers led the twins to a large room filled with bunks of sleeping people. Nearly all of them were filled with people, the air thick with snoring and sleeping noises. It didn't surprise either of them. With the fighting, Novi Grad had more homeless than it could handle. There was only a few empty beds and the twins were shown to two of them. Reluctantly, they laid down in their separate beds. Wanda pulled the blanket up to her shoulder and met her brother's eyes across the aisle that separated them. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and the two of them waited. The moment the door closed and the workers were gone, Wanda abandoned her bed and slid into Pietro's. He held the blanket up for her, letting her curl tightly against him. He held her tightly against him, burying his face in her messy-yet-clean hair. She was sobbing again the second she was wrapped safely in his arms. He cried too, softer, but just as hard. And eventually they cried themselves to sleep, exhausted by the last few days. But even that couldn't save them from nightmares.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read. I hope you liked it.


End file.
